Beyond the Window
Episode: 1
"Could you kindly let me sit by the window? I'd be very grateful."
Kuhu had been staring out at the station platform for a long time. Realizing the request was directed at her, she turned around and saw a boy standing there. She scanned him briefly—about five feet five, wearing glasses, quite fair, with hair parted to the side but styled with a bit of a spiky texture.
"Could you kindly move?"
The boy gave a very cute smile, waiting for Kuhu's response. Kuhu was stuck in a dilemma. To her, this question felt more complicated than a physics problem on magnetism. For any other girl, it might have been a simple request, but for someone like her—who rarely talks to boys and has such a soft heart—it was a lot to process.
Kuhu liked to carry herself with a sense of "aristocracy." She liked the weight of that word. She often thought of kings and queens from history books. But in simpler terms, she just didn't want her soft nature to make her look foolish or naive to others. That was it. As she remained lost in her thoughts, the boy cleared his throat after receiving no response.
"Miss, can I have the seat?"
Finally, Kuhu spoke up, "The window seat is mine."
"That's why I'm requesting it," he replied.
Kuhu didn't know what to say, but she couldn't just look away either—that would be rude. She spoke again, "Actually, I never sit anywhere except the window seat. Sorry!"
After saying this, she turned her gaze back outside, but she watched his reaction out of the corner of her eye. The boy looked quite annoyed. He took off his stylish college bag, put it on the overhead rack, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and sat down in the seat next to her.
Now, Kuhu started feeling guilty. He had asked so nicely; maybe she should have given it to him. He seemed like a gentleman—stylish yet polite. He was wearing white pants, a light blue shirt, and white sneakers, with navy blue framed glasses. She noticed his pants were folded just above the ankles. Kuhu liked this detail. She thought he might be of a religious mindset, but then she mentally scolded herself. She had a habit of thinking well of everyone without knowing them; she wasn't a good judge of character. Maybe he just folded them for style and here she was, making him out to be a saint!
Kuhu had this problem—she either didn't trust people at all or trusted them instantly. Her younger sister, Pihu, was different; she could read people at a glance. For instance, Pihu had once looked at Kuhu's classmate Nira and said, "Sis, this girl definitely has a boyfriend." Kuhu had confidently denied it, saying Nira was just a tomboy. But a month later, when they became close friends, Kuhu found out Pihu was right.
Kuhu then tried to justify her refusal—if she had given up the seat, maybe the boy would have thought she was "desperate" or "cheap." She always thought girls requested window seats and boys happily obliged, but she didn't know boys made such requests too.
Suddenly, a voice broke her thoughts: "Chanachur! Chanachur!"
She hadn't even noticed the train had started moving.
"Brother, give me ten takas worth of chanachur," Kuhu said.
As she reached out to pay, her eyes fell on the boy's phone screen. He was logging out of Facebook. She caught a glimpse of the ID name: "Janalar Pashe" (By the Window).
He logged out, put the phone in his pocket, and leaned back with his eyes closed. Kuhu figured it was a fake ID. People usually name fake accounts after things they love. Maybe the window seat was something sentimental to him? Or maybe... she wondered if he had just created the ID right there in the train just to show her.
Lost in these chaotic thoughts, she finished her snack and stood up. The boy had one leg tucked under the front seat and the other folded back. Kuhu lifted her burqa slightly to step over his legs. A moment later, she returned with an ice cream in hand and stood beside him.
"Excuse me, are you listening?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Yes? Do you want to say something?"
"Please move over a bit."
"Where should I move?"
"Move to that side," she pointed to the window.
"Look, how can I move there? There's a stranger sitting there."
"I don't see any girl there," Kuhu replied.
The boy looked to his right, looked back at Kuhu, and gave that same cute smile. "Sorry, I didn't notice. I'm moving, you can go in."
"No, you sit in that seat."
"Really?"
Seeing his reaction, Kuhu couldn't hold back her laughter. Though she didn't usually laugh around boys, she let out an audible giggle. He sounded like a child who had just been told he was going to a theme park.
The boy sat by the window and began staring outside with intense curiosity. Without looking away, he said, "Thank you!"
"Did you say something? I can't hear you."
He turned to her. "Thank you! I've never been on a train before—this is my first time. My home is in Comilla, but I live in Dhaka for my studies. I usually travel by bus or private car. I'm going home now, but my family doesn't know. If they did, they would have sent a car. I just wanted to try the train. On the bus, I always sit by the window. I usually buy two tickets just to ensure the window seat, but I couldn't get two for the train on such short notice. I had to buy this one in black. Thank you so much."
"It's okay," Kuhu replied.
"Where are you going?"
"Feni."
"Oh, is that your home?"
"Yes."
The boy didn't say anything more and went back to the view. Kuhu was relieved he didn't push the conversation further. She had a habit of falling asleep on transport, but she forced herself to stay awake. She didn't want to accidentally lean her head on a stranger's shoulder.
When the train reached Comilla station, the boy stood up. He slung his bag stylishly over his shoulder and got off. Kuhu finally moved back to her window seat. Just as she leaned back and closed her eyes, she heard:
"Excuse me, are you listening?"
She opened her eyes to see the boy standing outside the window on the platform.
"Yes, tell me."
"I am Kujon. I realized I got off without saying a proper goodbye, so... sorry."
"No, it's fine."
"Your name?"
"Kuhu."
"Beautiful name. Wait a second, I'll be right back."
Kuhu found Kujon quite eccentric. She didn't know how she was supposed to "wait" if the train started moving. After a moment, Kujon returned to the window, pulled a pen out of his bag, and scribbled something in a book he was holding. With that cute smile again, he handed the book through the window.
"Take this."
Seeing her hesitate, he placed it on her lap. "A small gift."
"No, no, it's not necessary, thanks—"
"Keep it! I'm leaving now, bye!"
Before she could hand it back, he turned and walked away. Kuhu watched him disappear into the crowd. The sound of the train's whistle brought her back to reality. She looked at the book: The Collected Works of Dale Carnegie.
She thought it was an odd gift. If a teacher or a parent gave it, it would make sense. She preferred novels. She wondered why he chose this. Then she realized these were the kinds of books usually sold at railway stalls. She chuckled to herself, thinking, What if he had given me 'I am Hitler speaking' instead?
Laughing softly, she opened the book. On the first page, she saw a note:
"A short journey,
A huge contribution.
A small smile,
An everlasting memory."
Thank you, Kuhu.
- Kujon.
Kuhu pulled out her phone and searched "Janalar Pashe" on Facebook. Many fake IDs appeared, but one had a profile picture of a boy. She clicked on it. The nickname was Kujon. It was him.
From his profile, she learned that Kujon was a student of EEE at Ahsanullah University. He was from Comilla and had studied at Comilla Ispahani Public School and College.
Kuhu put her phone back in her bag and leaned against the seat. She picked up the book again. Even though she preferred novels, she found herself smiling at the gesture.
To be continued...